Creating Clichés

A couple of years ago, Michelle Kerns published a clever piece on examiner.com (and PopMatters, which I still sometimes read, despite their snubbing me) about the “Top 20 Most Annoying Book Reviewer Clichés and How to Use Them All in One Meaningless Review.”

Without going back to look, I feel reasonably sure I’ve never used the word “gripping” in anything I’ve written, unless it was something about what my younger brother and sister used to do to one another. And I would hope that if I used the word “readable” in one of my book reviews, it was only following the word, “barely.”

That said, I’m not at all certain I have avoided some of the clichés Kerns indicts, if not “nuanced,” probably “compelling,” maybe even “deceptively simple.”

It seems to me that the only way a hack of my (small) caliber can avoid using hackneyed clichés is to invent some of his own. Looking back over some of my “work” from the past, I can see that I’ve already laid the groundwork for establishing my very own lexicon of strained lingo, so I’m already well on my way toward a hefty arsenal of personally-coined clichés.

Here are a few:

AFUM: Another Fouled-Up Mess. This is a real time-saver for my music reviews, especially with bands that consistently cranked them out. Back in The Day, Styx and Journey issued one AFUM after another.

“Tribute band”: Reserved for bands that play their own stuff as blandly or otherwise poorly as a cover band plays the band’s stuff. Applicable to the majority of REM’s output since Automatic for the People.

“Last song, people!”: Live performances so rushed and sloppy, you can virtually see the band sprinting for the limos. For example, the last 1/3 of the (otherwise beloved) 1973 Beach Boys In Concert set, the Mike Love-Fest portion, is all “last song, people!”